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Date: "Ship"
Title: Summary April
Date: 16 Apr 2004
Time: 09:08:34 -0400
Bring up the subject of fishing and you you never know what journey your in for. I’ve stood for an hour in Wal Mart listening to a man, I just met, tell a yarn so outlandish he should have been a lawyer. I’ve run a pint low on blood (clouds of sand gnats') on the dock hearing about the ‘one that got away’. A story may lead you along a rocky stream bank in search of native trout. My uncle Tom was the grandest story teller I’ve ever listened to. His stories were so vivid that you could smell the dampness on the stones and hear water rush. I’ve caught my best trout with him; around his kitchen table. Catfishing at night on a private lake... The story teller being rather aimless, revealing little about the actual fishing, because the truth of the matter turns out, the guys were there simply to filter beer. The story ends with a punch line...”Bubba fell in”. I can’t imagine why? Around Steinhatchee, many of the stories spin around a ‘gator’ trout. The trout slapping a top water plug “clean out of the water” on the first hit, turned to take the bait, then “Rick managed to knock that fish off at the boat with the landing net”. “That trout was HUGE; eight pounds or better”. “The biggest I’ve ever seen”. Rick chips in “It was at least 24 inches long”. I’d like to see a 24 inch eight pound trout. I envision a speckled basketball with fins. Shark encounters lead to long winded stories. The length of the fish. The length of the battle. The length of the runs. The length of the boat. Add length to the story. “You ought to have seen ol’ Henry’s face”. “Red as a vine ripe tomato”. “Reel it in ‘Alice’”. “Don’t just play with it”. “We razzed him for forty five minutes before we cut that shark off”. Gas: $12. Bait: $10. Food and drink: $25. Story: priceless. I remember a fellow who wanted a “deep sea monster”. “Sure, Bruce” I responded. The boat ride sat us afloat over a wreck. On that wreck live a few jewfish (Goliath grouper for the PC crowd). The small jewfish are 200 pounds. I have a rod/reel combo I refer to as the ‘Darrell’. Named after the hulk of a man who gave it to me. It is a broomstick with a 9/0 Daiwa reel I spooled with 100’ of 550 pound test parachute cord. If someone handed me something like that I’d hand it back. Not Bruce. “Bring it on, dude”. I pinned a seven pound chunk of cut bait on a hook large enough to haul in a Clydesdale then pulled cord off the reel until the bait hit the bottom. After a brief coaching chat, Bruce said he was ready. He thought he was ready. He wasn’t ready. During the ten minute interlude, the rest of the crew busied ourselves amberjack fishing. An intergalactic space groan alerted us to the fact that Bruce had got his wish. Little B, the best-mate, whipped around the center console just before I did and grabbed the rod from Bruce’s hand a split second before it was going to be released. The cord broke a second or two later. Thank God. Bruce had mistakingly slipped the rod butt between his legs. That error in judgement had sent his ‘party boys’ into his nasal cavity. That explained the intergalactic space groan. Bruce was a lump on the deck. I dumped frozen sardines from a plastic bag, replaced it with a couple of handsful of ice, tied it off and wrapped it in a clean wet rag. “Here, put this on it”. After awhile, Bruce recovered. If I had the CD onboard, I would have played ‘Thank God for unanswered prayers’ by Garth Brooks for a good giggle. By the way, I no longer use the parachute cord. I replaced it with 200 pound test mono with a 300 pound test leader. After that incident, I figured that the weakest link in that set-up was the man; that’s not a good thing. These story quips all have one important thing in common. Fish? Yes, but but not the most important aspect. People. I fish for a living and have found out that the most valuable part of a fishing trip is not the fish; it’s the people. I’m blessed to have met so many wonderful people. People with diverse backgrounds, varied life experiences. I have laughed to the point I had to stop what I was doing, traveled to distance places, learned new things about fishing and otherwise, had scary, as well as, sincere moments, been excited and bored as I’ve ever been all in the confines of my boat while making a friend. I’m thankful for everyone, well honestly, most everyone, who has fished with me. I also realize that others that fish together do so because the enjoy each others company. The fish are the target of the day but the meaning comes from time spent together. If someone invites you to go fishing it’s because they like you. It is a compliment. The ship your fishing on is a friendSHIP. A beautiful ship to be on. Jimmy and Wanda Bostic have fished off Steinhatchee for years. They are my neighbors. Wonderful people to know and live next to. Over time, they have upgraded their boat and equipment, at their expense, to do what they love to do; troll for grouper. The ‘Miss Wanda II’ (where Jimmy came up with the name I have no idea) is a fine custom boat with all the latest electronics, heated and air conditioned cabin, V birth, spacious head (one you could, if you cared to, spend some time in and not one you’re so cramped you can’t wait to unfold yourself out of) and ‘lectric’ reels so you don’t have stop the boat and hand crank that grass fouled plug in. Just punch the button and keep the fishing circus moving along. Wow! Wanda has really paid attention to what works and what doesn’t during her time on the water and used her experience wrap Jimmy in a boat she can thoroughly enjoy. They share their beautiful ‘ship’ with many people. Every time we meet I become enthralled with a fishing adventure they shared with someone. They have caught countless grouper but their stories revolve around the crew. They get it. Fishing is a wonderful adventure best enjoyed when shared. Don’t get overly focused on the catching of fish to the point that you miss the point of being together. Time is a limited commodity; fishing time together has high value. Enjoy yourself and others. Take care of yourself and your tackle. Capt B.